


Alpha Dynamics

by SPNFangallovesSquirrel



Series: Dean [1]
Category: Unspecified Fandom
Genre: Omega Dean Winchester, a/b/o dynamics, alpha reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNFangallovesSquirrel/pseuds/SPNFangallovesSquirrel
Summary: Hazel is a young Alpha looking for her Omega.





	1. Alpha Dynamics

**Author's Note:**

> Change Hazel for your name!

****News: you’re either an Alpha, a Beta or an Omega. Nothing more, nothing else. Even more news: your alpha picks you. So if you’re a beta, you have no choice. If you’re an omega, you definitely don’t have a choice.  
  
Years before you were born, a virus was set lose on the states. Most people didn’t survive after the world went to hell. Slowly after people started dying off, those left alive were meant to help replenish the population. When you were born, you were given a virus. Or an antibody to the virus. The antibody would deter the virus from killing anyone.

Soon after the antibody took hold, people started noticing changes. Some people were lucky to face death, and not die. Others found themselves with powers. Others could change form.  
  
You scared the crap out of your mom, the day the antibody took charge, and changed you.  
  
You were five, and you had been begging your parents for a dog. You couldn’t though because you were allergic. It was a nightmare every day. You were always crying about how everyone else had a pet. So it was fitting that your mom found you, a small little chocolate lab, chewing on one of your Barbie dolls the day it happened.  
  
At six, authorities took you away, so you could train to become a strong  _skin changer_ , as people would come to call you. That’s what the rule was.  
  
If you were a  _skin changer_ , you were usually an alpha. You had the pack mentality, and you usually knew the dynamics of being a leader.  
  
At seven, more authorities took you away. You, in all your reclusive glory had impressed people. They wanted you to continue your training at a bigger facility, to become a strong weapon.  
  
A weapon for what though, you didn’t know.  
  
By twelve your parents had succumbed to the virus. Enough that they went quickly and painlessly in their sleep. You found a new home with the local sheriff, a rough and tumble alpha who frequented bars more often than not, and usually took the form of a large grizzly bear.  
  
“If you stay out of my way,” he’d say to you, “I’ll stay out of yours. Try and keep your girl problems to yourself to if you must.”  
  
So you did.  
  
The sheriff – as he so happily had you call him – enrolled you in the local middle school and it was the first time you had to actually socialize with other kids.  
  
You had to butt heads with the other alphas, and try and avoid the omegas and betas, as you didn’t have yours yet.  
  
By eighteen, you were in coming in to your senior year. The sheriff, had been promoted.  
  
He had gone from a drunk small town sheriff, to a sober member of the secret service.  
  
That meant a new town, a new school, and a new bunch of BS.

* * *

“I know I don’t talk to you about this, but your rut is getting damn near impossible. I think you need to do something.”  
  
“I. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t found someone I’d even been interested in claiming. We did just move here.” You reply, throwing your keys down in your bag. You sit down and look to your hands, and their slow tremors were now violent shaking.  
  
“What’s wrong Hazel?” the only father you really knew looked at you, as you tried to hold the shaking hand still.  
  
“I’m good. I’m all good.”  
  
“Hazel.” He warned. Even there was a slight undertone of Alpha that you even had to listen too. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I. I don’t know. I started exhibiting powers today at practice.”  
  
“Powers? Does that mean that you. You’re not an alpha any more?” He sits down on the coffee table in front of you and holds your hands. Immediately the shaking stops, and you look up to him.  
  
“No. I’m still an alpha. I changed a couple times just to make sure.”  
  
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “So let me get this straight. You’re exhibiting Alpha and Omega traits?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
He grumbles and stands, heading to the small wet bar in your home. “I need a drink.”  
  
You scoff lightly almost agreeing you wanted one, but you stay in your seat. “What do I do? I mean, if they find out I’m starting to possess powers, they’ll take me away. Again.”  
  
“No, they won’t. You’re eighteen. As soon as you turn eighteen the government has no say in your life.”  
  
“Promise?” you ask looking up to him. He takes a swig from the bottle of jaeger in his hand and nods.  
  
“I promise.” He clears his throat. “Now, Ludo needs more dog food. Here’s some change. Go get some food for the mutt, and pick us up some food.”  
  
You nod slowly, looking to him holding out a fifty–dollar bill. You stand and walk to him, taking the money and you quickly disperse.

* * *

You sit in the cab of your truck, looking at your hands. You hadn’t even imagined that you could have that kind of power, let alone that you’d have it while showing your other traits. But like all things, you stuff it into the recesses of your minds to accomplish the task at hand.  
  
Food for your three–year–old German Shepherd Ludo.  
  
The second you walk in, though you’re noticed. All the other Alphas stand firmly on their feet. Claiming the beta or omega behind them. All the omegas and betas seemed to be investigating you, wondering if you had claimed your own.  
  
You hold your own, and walk down the aisle meant for pets, until you find the bagged dog food.  
  
“Of course he gives me the difficult task of finding the right food.” You mutter, shaking your head.  
  
“Not your usual task?” a deep voice asks. His timber resonates inside of you, making you almost go weak at the knees. The sheriff said it might feel like that, when you meet your omega.  
  
You clear your throat and look to the man, now standing a few inches away to your left. “No. Not usually. My dad usually gets the food. But seeing how he’s my dog, I guess I’d better do it once in a while.”  
  
Green eyes are staring back at you. A look of longing mirrors his face, and you can almost sense he’s been waiting for this moment.  
  
Waiting to say something.  
  
But he didn’t. The alpha in you was already making him submit.  
  
“I suggest getting this one.” He points to a large black bag, a bag of Eukanuba. One for a working dog. “Good for working breeds, or big dogs. My German Shepherd eats it.”  
  
You tilt your head to read as much of the label as possible. “Unless you have a small dog. Then I don’t know what to suggest.”  
  
A laugh falls from your lips and you put your hand on the bag. “No, this should do it. My German Shepherd will have to eat it, or I don’t know what to do.”  
  
You pull after the bag, but he stops you. “No, let me.”  
  
With that he’s throwing two bags of food over his shoulder and slowly follows you. You silently wait in line, and argue only a second as he pays for both yours and his. And then soon you’re walking out to your truck, him in tow.  
  
“Well, this is me.” You point to your black truck. He lets out a low whistle at the vintage ford truck sitting in it’s parking spot.  
  
“I like your taste.”  
  
“Thank you. And. Uh, thanks for the dog food.” You mutter quietly. He drops the bag into the bed of your truck, and turns to you, resting his bag at his feet.  
  
“No problem. I can tell we already have good taste in classic cars, and dogs.” He holds his hand out for you, and smiles. “The names’ Dean Winchester.”  
  
You return the smile and slowly hold out your hand, “Hazel Windom.”  
  
The second you make contact with his hand, you know it. You’re done.  
  
Done searching.  
  
Done waiting.  
  
Done.  
  
You’re just done.  
  
Right in front of you, stood your Omega.  
  
You suck in a deep breath, right as he does, as a wave of shocks ride up your arm. He’s taken back, and after a few seconds, he pulls the sleeve of his arm up his forearm. Like blood vessels running up his arm, a small intricate web of patterns takes it’s place; they become stronger as he runs his thumb over them.  
  
“You’re my Alpha?” he questions, almost scared of your answer.  
  
You pull the sleeve of your hoodie up, and run your thumb up your forearm. The same web of patterns fall on your skin, and then slowly disappear.  
  
“I am.” You shake your head and look back to him. “Oh my god. I’ve finally found you.”  
  
“What happens now?” he asks, voice deep and low. It makes you weak at the knees again, there’s something that he’s doing to you.  
  
“You need to calm your knot so no one can smell you, and I need to soothe my rut. It’s been driving me insane.”  
  
He nods, but you interrupt him as you plant your lips on his, roughly tugging at his full bottom lip with your teeth. A small moan rumbles in his chest, and you can hear him utter the world  _Alpha_ , under his breath.  
  
Fully submitting.  
  
Fully yours.  
  
“Get in your car and follow me home. We’ll leave your dog and the car at my place and find some hole to hide in.”  
  
He smiles in appreciation. With one final kiss, he brushes your jaw with his thumb, gently as he possibly can. “Yes ma’am.”  
  
With one last kiss, you push him away playfully, and he takes his cue to get in to his car. As quickly as possible.  
  
The second you two were separate, the ache in your gut returned. It needed to happen fast, or you felt you might explode.


	2. I need You

It seemed like hours, no years before you were pulling up to your house, the loud rumble of his engine cutting off behind you. The door of your truck creaks open, and Dean is at your side, waiting for your command.

“What do you need?” he asks,

“You, I need you. I need to tell my father where I’ll be, but I need you. Terribly.” You reply, pulling him closer to you. You hop out of your truck, and his body is flush with yours; his pupils are blown with a want and lust only you can match.

You put your lips to his, winning the battle to dominate him, even in the kiss. Showing that you are eager for him. A groan emits from his throat as your fingers find their way to the skin of his lower back, and you feel a tangible spark of electricity between the two of you.

“I want you.” You moan, making your grip on his as tight as possible. You show your ownership,

“I need you.” He responds. He shows his submission. It shows what he’s been waiting for, something that he was meant for. That makes you go weak at the knees.

Ever since you had found you were an alpha, you had craved one day having an omega. One day having someone that needed you.

And here he was, needing his alpha, just as much as you needed your omega.

“Quit sucking face and get inside you idiots.” Your dad was clearly outside, doing his nightly rounds.

Even though both of you were alpha’s, he always had the need to protect you. He had a gun strapped to his hip and was expertly holding his rifle over his shoulder. Dean tenses at the sight of him, and you immediately step in front of him.

“Well?” your father asks. “Get inside.”

“First I need to lay a few boundaries with you old man.” You fold your arms. “He is my omega, so his safety and wellbeing is my priority. Keep the guns and weapons away when we’re around, and there won’t be any issues.”

He tightens his grip on his rifle and tries to speak, but you stop him, holding your hand out. “No crass comments, no disrespecting him or me. You may be older than me, but I’m stronger.”

“I won’t lay a hand on him, I know better than to mess with a hormonal woman and what’s hers. Just get inside, don’t break anything and get things figured out by the time I come back tomorrow night. I have a shift in DC that starts tonight.”

You give a slight nod, still assessing his body language before relaxing your body.

He mutters again, shaking his head, and walks off, a “gotta go before this gets uncomfortable” under his breath. You watch the taillights of your father’s SUV disappear as he puts a bit of distance between you and Dean.

You turn to him and suck in a large breath of air. Your palm caresses his cheek, the stubble scratching your skin.

“You are so beautiful and you’re my Alpha.” He responds lowly, a vibration to his voice.

“My omega,” you whisper pulling his head closer to you. Delicately, you pull at his lips with your teeth, pulling a needy groan from his throat.

“What. Do you. Want. Me to. Do?” he asks between breaths.

“I need to knot you. I need you in between me. I need to make a mess of this place.”

You smile as you kiss his lips, and then his throat.

“What about the other alpha?” he inquires. Not because he’s curious, but unsure if safety would become an issue.

“He’s nothing to worry about. I can take care of it, if anything happens. Right now your knot. I need your knot.”

“Where do I take you?” he asks quietly. He keeps his tone soothing, letting you know you’re still in charge.

“Take me inside. Upstairs top floor is mine.” You hop a little, and he cradles your butt in his hands, you tightly wrap your legs around him, hooking your ankles together.

 

There were five things you learned about Dean that night.

One, he was very good in the sack. He did have seven years of experience over you, and until meeting you, he had to fill the void some how. You would happily take the extra experience he had, his seven years of extra meaningless experience gave you the best sex of your life.

Two, he was very vocal, and when you were on top of him; riding him to soothe the aching rut. The little groans you could pull out of him, the euphoric yet painful noises he emitted spurred you on even more.

Three, he – like you – had a tragic back story. He was taken away to be trained to be the dutiful omega. He hadn’t seen his family since. When he had last seen his mom, she had been a step or two away from being taken by the virus. His dad was killed for protecting his family, leaving him and his brother alone. He didn’t know where his little brother Sam was, or what the virus had done to him. This new start for Dean was just that – a new start. A new family, a new loved one, a new meaning for life.

Four, Dean was fiercely loyal and protective. Even though his job was now all sexualized, he had a protective touch to him. You felt safe in his hands, safer then with the Sheriff, or anyone else who had once protected you.

And five, Dean was going to be your high school history teacher. You had to parade your omega around to those prepubescent dickheads.

The first week was purely sex. It helped, although a week wouldn’t come close to the years and years of heartache.

You had a missing link, and it wouldn’t fix anytime soon. It wouldn’t replace all the years you had gone without him.

The sheriff had even temporarily promised you the house, until you had things under control.

Even though you knew it would take a while.

 

You laid calmly that night, the pulse of his heartbeat running evenly as your ear was pressed to his chest. His fingers traced patterns in your back methodically; he held on to you tightly, allowing no space to go unfilled between the two of you.

You let out a sigh, running your hand over his chest was the only thing that you could do right at the moment.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“School starts soon. How are we going to do this?” you ask softly.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks, almost asking for permission. For permission to wonder, to even ask that of you.

“I want to show you off to everyone, to let everyone know you’re my omega. No one else’s.” You sit up, and he drops his hand to the bed, waiting for you to make the next move. “I just want to stare into your beautiful eyes. I want to touch you and I want your hands on me. All the time. I’ve gone too long with out your touch, I won’t go without it anymore.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, peppering more kisses up and down his face, remembering every line, every inch.

“I want to be yours and yours only.” He replies sighing contentedly, relaxing under your touch.

“You are so handsome. I. I just want it to be us. Only us.”

Straddling his lap, you swallow his moan as your lips meet his; you deepen the kiss placing a strong hand on his neck, the other caressing his jaw and cheek.

“Do I have to share you?” you ask.

“Unfortunately from seven to two, yes. You do. But we’ve got an hour lunch, and my prep period. I made a bold move and told the school you needed to by my aide during my prep period. That they’d understand later and you’d explain.” He looks down, to avoid your gaze.

“That’s a good boy. More time alone with you, I can handle that. Now Let’s tear apart the kitchen. That is one surface we haven’t done it on.”

“Oh god. I love you, my alpha.”

“I love you to. Now take me down to the kitchen. I have a little late night snacking to do.”


	3. Bullies Suck

**Two Weeks Later** :  
  
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t little miss alpha. Slutting it up with anyone in particular this last month of the summer?”  
  
You growl as you pass Randy Tammietti, the jock of all jocks of your school and beeline straight for your locker.  
  
“Leave me a lone Randy.” You gristle, trying to be as alpha as possible. You shove your bag into it’s space and grab a binder.  
  
 _You really hated high school._  
  
At first Randy thought you were an omega. He tried constantly to “woo” you as his own. But when you wouldn’t have it with his incessant flirting, he thought two alphas would be a powerhouse.  
  
When you said no, it almost led to a physical altercation, and both of you suspended your last semester of your junior year.  
  
Since then he hated you and you hated him.  
  
“Come on, just talk to me baby girl.”  
  
 _Oh great, he was back to flirting._  
  
“You’re trying too hard Randy,” you slam your locker closed and try to stay calm. The only thing from stopping you from ripping his throat out, was the crowd, and the fact your omega was rather sensitive; and you knew he was standing outside his room. It was first period, and his prep period, so you were heading to have under an hour of alone time with Dean.  
  
“You know me. I do that really well.” You try and step forward, but he blocks your way with his arm.  
  
“What do you want?” You groan, looking up to him. His taller frame towered over you a few inches and he batted his eyes at you.  
  
“Come on, my offer still stands; two alphas are better than one. I think–”  
  
You hold out your hand before he can continue.  
  
“Even if you were the last man standing, I wouldn’t even dream about it. Besides I’ve found my omega, I don’t need one – night stands like you to fill my time. I’m done with that.”  
  
“You? You found your omega? A deadbeat like you found an omega? Before the popular kid? God that has to be a lie. That – ”  
  
“Is there a problem, Ms. Windom?” Just in the knick of time, Dean approaches the two of you. In the most non–threatening, threatening way he shoves his hands in his pockets. He knows to keep his distance, just because he doesn’t want it to go anywhere. He doesn’t want you to feel. “Is this young gentleman bothering you?”  
  
There goes his protective side. You just loved it, and no one even knew yet.  
  
“Nothing I’m not used to.”  
  
“I was just trying to talk to her, and the bitch is giving me the cold shoulder.”  
  
“Mr. Tammietti, I suggest you watch your tone, and how you speak to her. She is a lady, we don’t speak to women that way. Not in this school.”  
  
“And who are you to stand up for a slut like her? She’s nothing.”  
  
Dean is about to reveal you’re his Alpha, but you hold your hand out. “Randy. Meet Mr. Winchester, your new history teacher.”  
  
“I’m  _her_  omega.”  
  
“God, you have a teacher to protect you? That’s unbelievable.” He slams his fist against the locker. He shoves an accusatory finger at you. “We aren’t finished Windom.”  
  
“Did I just hear you threaten a woman, in front of her omega?” Dean threatens, pointing a broad finger towards him. The jock clears his throat, but decides to back off. “That’s what I thought. Now get to class Mr. Tammietti.”  
  
You look around to see a group of kids all staring at you.  
  
“Um, Dean?” you motion to the group. “Can you do something about the staring crowd?”  
  
“It’s almost time for class, and there is nothing to see here. It’d be smart for you all to leave.”  
  
The group slowly disperses, and you wait until you’re alone to touch him. Even the slightest touch sends shivers down your spine.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. He scans the halls nervously, probably wondering if people were waiting or expecting you to do something.  
  
“No. I hate high school. People here are jerks.” You look up to him and stroke his cheek lightly. “I’ll survive, and then from the minute we get home, until tomorrow when we have to get up, let’s stay tangled in the sheets. What do you say?”  
  
“Anything for you. Now, can I touch you, or am I going to lose my job today?” he asks inquisitively.  
  
“I had to tell the school and the sheriff of our local precinct. They’re good because they know. We just have to go easy around here. No extreme PDA.”  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
“Good, now kiss me and go teach those lucky bastard’s.” you order, and he complies.  
  
The kiss is deep, yet quick. Bruising and passionate. It’s sudden, but it leaves you breathless, and thinking about it until you can see him next.  _The last period of the day._  
  
Dean gives you a lingering look as you walk in and you find yourself taking a seat in a seat in the front row. If you couldn’t touch him, or be with him, you wanted to be close.  
  
Because honestly, your day was pretty shitty.  
  
It started out like any other day. You always had English to start off. If you were to be honest, it was your favorite teacher, Charlie Bradbury. She was a nerdy, small woman, bright red hair and a sense of humor only few understood.  
  
Everything was going fine until Randy Tammietti waltzed in late, and he was seated next to you. He was silent until the bell, and the second you stand he decides to knock your books out of your hands.  
  
You bite back the tears and walk to your second class, which was your least favorite class; math. Zachariah was also your least favorite teacher. He was the type that got under your skin; he was a giant, sanctimonious prick.  
  
Your physical education teacher, Henry Winchester {you’d have to ask Dean if he was related to him later} was the type that every girl in class wanted to see what his ass looked like in shorts, or whether or not he was single. Randy was in your class again, and when he wasn’t commenting about the old hand – me – down clothes or the way you needed to get back in shape and “slim down,” he was sneering at you and laughing behind your back.  
  
Lunch was busy, Dean had to help a student get situated with his AP history exams, and so you were all alone. You didn’t want to bother him so you spent the entire lunch eating in the bathroom, alone and desperately trying not to draw attention to yourself.  
  
By your fourth period, you finally had a break from Randy, but the rest of his group of friends were in your business class. Mr. Crowley was the type of teacher that wouldn’t do anything, unless he saw it. So when Randy’s best friend Carson would pull at your hair like a fifth grader – just to bother you – Mr. Crowley wouldn’t see it. He only saw when you almost turned around to hit the kid.  
  
Last period.  
  
You were finally with Dean. Not that you could do anything.

* * *

“You’ve been crying.” Dean asks walking in to the house. You’re sitting at the table eating a snack, and trying not to make your crocodile tears noticeable. “Why have you been crying?”  
  
“Because high school sucks, and people are bullies.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Teenagers are jerks. They’re hormonal jerks.” You reply, giving a long sigh. You wipe a way a falling tear and lean back in your chair.  
  
“What do you need?” he asks quietly.  
  
“I could use a hug.”  
  
“Hey, come here.” He replies, stating his dominance. “Let me hold you.”  
  
All you can do is nod and let him pull you to the couch.  
  
“Anything good about school for you?” he asks quietly.  
  
“History class with Mr. Winchester.” You cuddle in closely as those five words cause Dean to pull you in closer.


End file.
